


Nevarran Steel

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:30:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Endangering her life needlessly, Cassandra realizes that the vow she made to Vivienne -- to be her Chevalier and to serve her -- is more than just some silly promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nevarran Steel

As the sky darkened and the sound of beating wings filled her ears, Cassandra looked at the slip of cloth tied to her wrist. Though she was wounded, her shield arm useless and her mouth filled with blood, she managed a weak smile. Her lady was somewhere out there, in the rolling hills, under the same black sky, and she was waiting for her to return. 

It was a romantic notion, and one that was far too fanciful and sentimental for a woman like Cassandra Pentaghast to imagine. Better to leave such things to her books, hidden in the bottom of her desk, with dog-eared pages and creased edges. Better not to get caught up in the idea of Vivienne waiting for her, of her eyes turned toward the mountain where the rift in the sky pulsed and hummed with strange life. 

Better, maybe, but Cassandra was a fool when it came to her.

Limping towards the beast as it landed with a tremendous roar, Cassandra lifted her blade. Her shield arm remained useless at her side, but her sword arm was strong enough, and the steel was as hard as her will. Her blood was the same that had flowed through the Pentaghast’s of old, who had hunted beasts like the one before her for sport, their hearts and jaws set as stone, their eyes blazing boldly. If the stories could be believed, they had hunted the dragons to near extinction, and she would not fall to such a creature and face their mockery on the other side.

The Inquisitor had given explicit instruction not to run off and go after the beast on her own, but Cassandra knew that while the Inquisitor had her business atop the mountain with Solas to guide her hand in closing the rift, someone had to make sure they were not interrupted by a line of fire or the downdraft of mighty wings. 

If they were to have any chance of surviving the battle, she would have to prove herself as a Pentaghast, to prove herself of Nevarran steel. 

 

She grit her teeth, fingers curling tight around the hilt of her sword as the dragon reared up on its hind legs, and the sky was blotted out.

****

Vivienne fussed as she looked her over, not exactly directing her swears and condemnations at Cassandra, but not exactly directing them anywhere else, for that matter. The infirmary was full to bursting, and Cassandra found herself in her own room, with healers coming in at all hours of the day and night to poke and prod at her with their tingling fingers. 

While Vivienne’s visit was welcome, she did not come with the elation and awestruck reverence Cassandra had been expecting. Her ancestors had had feasts and parties and parades and holidays thrown in their name, yet she was not given so much as a curt nod and a simple thank you before Vivienne was fussing over her wounds and calling her a foolish child. 

“I did what needed to be done,” Cassandra said, somewhat sheepishly. That wouldn’t do. She was a warrior and she would speak as such, no matter the slip of silk tied about her wrist and the passionate oath she had sworn against Vivienne’s skin. “The beast would have complicated things for the Inquisitor. I bought her the time she needed.”

“You nearly got yourself _killed_ ,” Vivienne said. “Blighted upjumped _fool_. What do you think would have happened if you’d bought time for the Inquisitor with your _death_?” 

Cassandra couldn’t remember ever seeing Vivienne so angry and rattled. Normally she wore a calm veneer, as much out of habit as out of necessity. Now, though, she stalked with room in great strides, her fingers clenching and relaxing at her sides, her eyes whipping around the room and settling fiercely on Cassandra’s face. 

“The world would have moved on,” Cassandra said quietly. “Time would have marched and armies with it, and the sky would have brightened with dawn just the same. Another Pentaghast cold in the ground, what a pity. But the Inquisitor---”

“What a pity,” Vivienne interrupted. The venom in her voice was gone. She sounded... hollow, as though someone had carved her empty. “Yes, what a pity. The world would have kept turning and the sky would have turned rosy with dawn and I would have been left here with nothing but the memory of a woman who swore me everything. Yes, what a _pity_.” 

Vivienne grabbed the silk from Cassandra’s wrist and tore it away. Cassandra tried to grab it from her, but it was thrown into the fire before she could move from her bed; and even if she had managed to stand, she doubted very much she had the energy to remain so for long. 

“How dare you,” Cassandra snapped.

“How dare _you_ ,” Vivienne bit. “How dare you make me promises in the night that you had no intention of keeping. How dare you tell me that you love me and be so eager to die.”

Cassandra had nothing to say, and it was for the best, Vivienne left with a sharp turn and the crash of a heavy door. 

****

Silence was all that existed between them for several weeks. Cassandra focused all of her energy on getting healthy, and ignored the needling worry and shame in her heart that she should find Vivienne and apologize for how she had behaved and what she had put her through. She doubted very much that her ancestors had possessed such shame, or that they had bothered to care what someone thought when they did their duty. 

It wasn’t until she was fit and on her feet again that she saw Vivienne, and the meeting went about as well as she’d been expecting. They passed pleasantries and had a few minutes of tense, awkward conversation before they were shouting at one another and saying things that they didn’t mean and could never take back. How maddening was it, to be in love with such a woman that could tie her into knots and get under her skin so deeply and intimately and easily? 

“I will not apologize for doing my duty,” Cassandra said through her teeth, her jaw tight as Vivienne shoved past her and moved swiftly down the hall. “If you are expecting me to budge on this, you have better chance of waiting for a stone to turn soft!”

****

She was so desperate to forge herself of Nevarran steel, to prove that she was as sharp and as brutal as the ancestors that had hunted great beasts and put their blood in her veins, that Cassandra had forgotten what it meant to be soft. What it meant to be silk tied around a wrist instead of a blade sharpened to an edge. 

What good was there in being the latter if the former had been thrown to the fire?

****

Stone became soft several nights later, as Cassandra knocked on Vivienne’s bedchamber and shuffled her feet in the hallway. When the door opened and she looked up from her boots to the soft darkness of Vivienne’s eyes, every bit of fight left in her fled, and she sighed out her name; the sound an apology and a promise all at once. 

For a long moment, Cassandra thought Vivienne wouldn’t budge -- that _she_ would be the stone that refused to soften -- but with a slight twitch of her lips, she stepped aside, and let Cassandra slip past her. 

She started her apology before the door was even closed, and took no pause for breath or for Vivienne to get a word in edgewise. Cassandra did everything but get onto her knees and beg for Vivienne’s forgiveness, and when her self-flagellation was finished, she kept her gaze on her feet, waiting for Vivienne to accept her words as the truth or demand she leave her room and take her apologies with her. 

Vivienne did neither. Instead, she laughed, gently, and reached out to take Cassandra’s hands. “Love,” Vivienne whispered, when Cassandra kept her eyes turned down. Her fingers curled under her chin and lifted her face. “How many times do I have to tell you that you do not need to prostrate yourself before me? Do you think I’ve never dealt with stubborn people before? Do you believe you’re the first person I have loved that hasn’t given a thought to their own safety and done something reckless?”

“No, but---”

“I wouldn’t lose you,” Vivienne said. Her smile slipped away, and the humor that had lit up her eyes faded. This time, it was her turn to look away, to let the emotion that burned and swelled there to be turned to the shadows. “You said that the world would turn and the sky would brighten with dawn and time would march on, but for me... It _wouldn’t_. Everything good would end. Do you understand?”

“I’m sor---”

“Do not be sorry,” Vivienne said. “Be _better_. Be _wiser_. Be _calmer_. Be... here with me, if this is where you want to be.” 

She moved to her dresser and removed a slip of fabric, silk and lace, turning back to Cassandra and tying it loosely around her wrist. 

“My lady,” Cassandra whispered, and Vivienne stole the rest of her words with her kiss, hard and deep and hot. Soon, Cassandra wore nothing _but_ her favor, knotted at her wrist, and Vivienne let her lips trail over her scarred skin, between her breasts and over her ribs, down between her thighs where she nestled happily. 

Nails caught her scalp, dragged down to the nape of her neck. Cassandra knew so little of ecstasy, had devoted herself so entirely to duty and service and pain and the stoniness of Nevarran pride, that her body trembled and burned and her mind was in a frenzy with the sensation. 

Vivienne’s tongue slipped over her, and when Cassandra’s trembling worsened and her knees threatened to buckle, she pulled away and pushed her down across the bed, spreading her legs and diving into her. Cassandra swore and squirmed and bit her lips bruised, her skin flushed and damp with sweat, her skin hardened with gooseflesh as Vivienne licked and nipped and sucked between her thighs. 

“You are mine, aren’t you?” Vivienne asked, voice low and husky as she kissed her way up Cassandra’s thighs and over her hips. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Cassandra panted. “Maker, yes. All yours.”

When Vivienne reached her mouth, Cassandra kissed her, hard enough to scatter her thoughts and knock their teeth together. Vivienne laughed, the noise rough and wild, when Cassandra turned her over and worked with a feverishly at the buttons of her blouse. Tearing fabric and popping the troublesome buttons, Cassandra sank gratefully against Vivienne’s exposed skin with a pleased sigh. 

“ _Chérie_ ,” Vivienne purred, fingers threading through Cassandra’s cropped hair and curling tight against her scalp. If she wanted to say more, she was robbed of her voice when Cassandra’s lips wrapped around her nipple and sucked softly. Vivienne’s body rose from the bed, her hips rocking, frictionless, until Cassandra’s hand was there, between her thighs, cupping her and pushing her hips down.

A shudder worked through her body, and Vivienne squeezed her thighs around Cassandra’s hand, rocking her hips until the friction was enough to flash lights in her eyes and lock her teeth. She hummed low in her chest, the sound vibrating through her throat, and it strengthened when Cassandra’s moved there, feeling the vibration under her mouth. 

When Vivienne came, she squeaked, a sound that might have been comical if not for the way her body moved and her eyes fluttered and every inch of her seemed to heat and tighten and _flush_. Cassandra kissed her throat as her orgasm moved through her, riding the buck of her hips, rubbing hard against her until she came again, and the mousy squeak was a guttural growl. 

The favor tied about her wrist was loose, and when she lifted her hand to tie it tighter, Vivienne caught her wrist and held her still. Cassandra looked into her eyes and sunk into them with the same little sigh as when she’d nestled against her skin. 

“My Knight,” Vivienne purred, kissing Cassandra’s lips and cheeks and nose and forehead. Kissing everywhere until Cassandra was laughing and squirming and they were both rolling around in the sheets. 

Pinned beneath her, Cassandra bit her lips when Vivienne pressed her arms down against the bed. She thought she desired another round of passion -- which she would have to save for later, after all, Knight or not, she was not as young a woman as she’d once been -- but Vivienne only tied the favor tighter and bent down to rub their noses together. 

“ _My_ world would not keep turning,” Vivienne said. “You understand, _oui_? My world and my dawn would end with you.”

She had become so accustomed to living alone, putting her duty and her service before all else, that the idea of someone hurting for her -- worrying themselves over her, becoming so sick with grief that they couldn’t go on without her -- wasn’t even a thought at the back of her mind. 

It took getting used to, being loved this way. Being loved by a heart that desired nothing but her happiness. Cassandra was unused to such unselfishness, and when Vivienne kissed her, with her fingers still wrapped around her wrist, Cassandra closed her eyes and made her a silent promise; that she would serve her, that she would love her, that she would give of herself until there was nothing left to give. 

“Mighty Dragon Hunter,” Vivienne teased. “Your ancestors will be ashamed to see you trembling this way.”

“Sod my ancestors,” Cassandra whispered. “You are enough to make even steel shiver.” 

If there were more teasing words, they were lost when Cassandra kissed her.


End file.
